For Granted
by DeskRage
Summary: Something glimmered in her eye. Embarrassment and fear made him want to interpret it as pity but Amelia didn't pity the way most people would. She grieved. She grieved fully and completely, and that shining grief and shock with which she regarded him made him feel as naked and exposed as she was. But in this moment, that didn't seem like a terrible thing.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Slayers? I wish!

A/N: Good God, this is probably the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. But I feel justified. I wrote this just after the end of a monstrously difficult quarter.

The first seeds of this idea actually came from just the face-value issues regarding Zelgadis' condition. I mean, it's one thing to look at an anime character who's supposed to look monstrous (when in fact they have a very appealing character design). That isn't to say that I think he'd be necessarily _ugly_ in real life, but I do think he'd be a bit more uncanny and surprising than a lot of people seem to think. Not just that, I saw some people on TV tropes complaining about how Zelgadis' motivation of trying to find a cure for himself to be largely steeped in vanity. This shocked me, because based on his characterization that falls pretty flat—as that shape of his is a physical, awful reminder of his past with Rezo…but on an even worse level than that, as a writer, I started to try and imagine what it would be like to be in Zelgadis' skin. It was not happy imagining.

In any case, I wanted to explore that and his interesting, rather unusual dynamic with Amelia. In doing so, I apparently felt the need to abuse and twist on an old cliché. I'll only do it once, I promise! This takes place just after the end of Slayers: Next.

Enjoy! Feedback much appreciated, especially given that this story has a lot of "winter survival" content. I researched it for the purposes of this fic, but if anyone notices some error, let me know!

* * *

_**For Granted**_

_(c) DeskRage, June 2012_

* * *

**Part 1**

* * *

The choice was stunningly simple.

The snow around them was already half a sword-length in depth and deepening fast—cascading to the ground in curtains so thick Zelgadis could barely see the disaster in front of him. Driving wind, gritty with grains of ice slashed across the frozen wastes, hardening the broken river ice in just seconds like nothing had happened and the cold—

Oh, the cold. It was dark and deep, having already nearly frozen his left sleeve to his flesh. This was bad. He could feel the it sinking down past his thick skin, seeking to settle into his bones. And if it was this bad for even him...

"A-Amelia…"

Her teeth were chattering so hard that the sound was like a death rattle, and she was so numb she apparently couldn't feel that she'd bitten her mouth on the inside, blood darkening her tongue and freezing on her bluish lips. Her thick winter gear was heavy with freezing water, leeching out her life as neatly as a fatal wound. But unlike such a wound, he knew no magic to fix this.

The choice was so simple. Freeze to death or…there was no time.

"You—you're going to have to…"

* * *

The original destination had been Kratos, one of the many small city-states enfolded in the Alliance of Costal States. It was famous for white-washed domed buildings, warm blue water and cuisines bursting with fresh fish, tomato and roast lamb. The people were welcoming, gregarious, and like in many prosperous port towns, shrewd businessmen. A large portion of their bustling open-air markets were devoted to the sale and trade of magical objects, from the charmed trinkets to the occasional artifact of real power.

However, all of these elements made it a popular destination not just for the adventurous and the industrious (Lina and her companions), but also for "fat-pursed tourist idiots" and honeymooners.

Martina and Zangulus were among the latter group. Normally, Amelia wouldn't take issue. She was more inclined to welcome it. After all, they'd travelled together before, and in the aftermath of the victory over Hellmaster, the idea of a nice, relaxing vacation, even if it was a small one brought a sigh of pleasure to her lips.

But Martina and Zangulus were married now.

Like everyone else, she'd been surprised, but couldn't help but find herself genuinely congratulating her, and even wishing her the best in her new life. It just didn't seem appropriate for their party to go with them to the city they planned to celebrate their first weeks of married life together.

But somehow, an equation that featured Lina, Martina and "honeymoon" seemed like a surefire recipe for disaster. Exploding disaster. Amelia cringed at the thought—she wouldn't wish that on _anyone. _

At first, she'd expected Lina to treat the revelation as an act of war, and possibly even insist on going to Kratos anyway. But she'd surprised everyone, flipping the map upside down and jabbing her finger at a tiny spot teetering on the border of Lyzille and Dils, declaring that they were going to the northern city of Hysode.

"I thought you said you wanted to see sun and go scour the magic markets," Zelgadis said as he watched Lina drag a perfectly diagonal line between Kratos and Hysode with an expensive-looking fountain pen, "From what I hear, it's a frozen wasteland."

"One man's frozen wasteland is another's paradise!" Lina replied. "Besides, that's a pretty dreary description—it's supposed to be a tourist town, like Kratos! They've got great snow, famous hot springs, and best of all," she leaned conspiratorially across the table, "There's an old rumor I heard about it once. The river Hysode is one of the oldest in the world, and legend has it that there's a huge cache of enchanted treasure at its bottom. Think of the possibilities! Also, they make this killer quiche that I've wanted to try for a while."

Zelgadis made a face. His eyes wandered a little to the left and his gaze turned inwards. The corner of his mouth tightened just that fraction of an inch, and he shifted his weight on the chair so it was leaning on the left side. Amelia's chest suddenly tightened. He was looking for an excuse to go off on his own again. She couldn't understand it, why he seemed to need a pretense for curing his body to do nearly anything—even when it was barely tangential to what was going on. He himself always let it hang in the background when things got serious, so why must it be a precursor, when everyone knew the real reason he stayed with them?

She'd known him, Lina and Gourry for almost two years now (two years next month, anyway). Lina and Gourry she didn't have to worry about—they had each other, after all. But Zelgadis, when he was on his own made her fret and twist her hands. Not that he couldn't take care of himself, but the thought of him being alone—something she could barely fathom— just seemed so unbearably sad.

It was unconscionable! There was no justice in letting him subject himself to that—even if she was only delaying the—

"Now stop right there, Mr. Zelgadis! You mustn't be so single-minded all the time!" She jabbed her finger at him. "We just saved the world from a powerful fiend! We've been on the road, fighting and rescuing for a long time, but even heroes of justice need a break. It wouldn't be right if you went off on your own before that happened, and…and you never know, there might just be something that you could—"

"I'm sorry, but allow me to interrupt before you contradict yourself," Zelgadis said flatly, fixing her with a gaze that was as focused as it was angry.

Amelia stopped, face flushing. He was right, of course. She felt small and shabby, having almost attempted to dangle that single-minded goal she had just admonished him for like a golden carrot.

Silence pooled around them, so thick Amelia could have cut the word 'awkward' into it with a knife. No one moved for a second. Amelia swallowed, scrambling for words, but instead of bold and inspiring, like she hoped they'd sound, they came out in a slightly strangled gurgle. She twiddled her thumbs.

"It—it just wouldn't be as fun if you didn't join us, Mr. Zelgadis. I mean, it wouldn't be the same without you."

She could feel Lina's eyes, Gourry's confusion and Sylphiel's surprised interested all at her back. Zelgadis, who was facing everyone was blinking at her like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Finally, Zelgadis placed his hand on his forehead. "Well, far be it from me to stop you people from having _fun..._" But he was looking directly at her through the gap in his fingers when he said it.

"All right, now that we've got that sorted out," Lina said loudly, standing up and nearly knocking her chair over, "Let's get while the going's good."

They set off on the journey within the hour. But on the road, Amelia found herself hanging at the tail end of the group, staring at Zelgadis' back as they walked, trying to quell the squirmy feeling in her guts and wondering when she'd become so selfish.

* * *

"For the road to a tourist town, this sure feels like we're in the ass-end of nowhere! I am freezing!" Lina growled as she stomped after Gourry, having taken the initiative to break snow.

"We should be there very soon, Ms. Lina. The new snow's just slowed us up a little, that's all. We just have to keep following the Hysode River," Sylphiel said. "Maybe once we arrive, we can get some clothes more appropriate for the weather." She puffed and shivered, drawing her cloak tighter, "I don't think we thought this out very well."

On the seventh day of their journey, Amelia still refused to begrudge the warm sunny coast of Kratos to Martina, even though she would have really liked to be able to feel her fingers and toes apart from the fiery numbness. Her clothes had the same grimy, cold texture as drying off with a damp towel, uncomfortably sweaty in places from earlier attempts to try and break snow for herself. Breath fogged and swirled in front of their faces as a tiny breeze, dry and brittle with cold teased through.

However, despite the discomfort, the beauty of this placed stirred up an old song in her heart. Without really thinking, she started humming it, her mother's old lullaby she couldn't remember the words to. The snow glittered and gleamed like spilt sugar in the pale sunlight, rolling before them in gentle hills. Icicles hung like diamond spears from the bristling boughs of stubborn evergreen trees, bark frosted with silver, and even in the tiny ice swirls curling across the surface of the frozen river that wound alongside their path, she found some childish wonder. Focusing on the beauty and goodness of things helped keep the discomfort and cold at bay…at least, in theory.

"I think it's wonderful," she announced, trying to keep her teeth from chattering as she spoke. "I've never seen this much snow before. What about you, Mr. Zelgadis?"

She turned around to look at him—as he'd been bringing up the rear.

"Riveting," he muttered. He was goose-stepping gingerly in the others footsteps and keeping his eyes focused on the ground, features twisted by a grimace of concentration.

Amelia dropped back to walk alongside him. She frowned. Even when walking in Gourry's footsteps, he still sank almost knee-deep into the snow, prompting stifled little snarls of annoyance.

"I guess…you don't like snow much, do you?"

"Well, it's not really the snow," he huffed, "It's—AUGH!" His foot seemed to catch on something underneath the ice. He tripped—and disappeared into a deep snowdrift with a shunking sound.

"Mr. Zelgadis!" He'd been completely swallowed by the drift, except for a few sharp silvery strands of his hair. The others turned in the direction of her cry, just in time for Zelgadis' hand to burst of out of the ground and shower her with snow. He started to claw his way back up, but as he did, Amelia noticed a splash of crimson darkening the area around his chest and shoulder.

"Mr. Zelgadis, oh no! Are you—"

"It's not mine," he grunted, hauling himself upright and glancing back at the hole. Amelia and Sylphiel gasped.

Half-buried in the snowdrift was the screaming death mask of a man. His arm had been ripped off at the shoulder, the skin around his neck and chest shredded as though by some feral beast. In the hand that was still intact, the man had been gripping a long curved knife. He'd been wearing a pack of supplies on his back—that too had been torn to ribbons and stained. The snow around him was pinkish where the blood had soaked through, where the blood on his face and limbs was still wet, if dark and gummy.

Amelia recoiled. Her nose was numb, but for some reason, perhaps to compensate for that fact, she could almost imagine the smell of death here.

"Who could have done this?"

"Nothing human," Zelgadis replied, folding his arms.

"Where'd this poor guy come from?" Gourry asked, leaning over to look, gaze focused and pensive.

"He may have been a traveler like us. More likely and knowing our luck, he's from Hysode, and we've just walked into some serious trouble." Lina stroked her chin, eyes focused and bright.

"We mustn't leave him like this," Amelia said, recovering from the initial shock. She swallowed. "That wouldn't be right."

"I agree," Zelgadis nodded in her direction. "But we'd better be on guard now."

The job was a meager one, but it would have to do. The smoke purples and cold reds of twilight were already smudging the horizon. The wind, as though sensing the night began to stir, whistling insistently and stirring up flurries of snow. Soon, the temperature would drop to dangerous depths. They covered the man back up, and bound two sturdy shafts of wood together to make a grave marker—so that at least the man's fellows, if he was from the village, could find him and finish the job according to their customs.

It was Sylphiel's idea that she and Amelia say a prayer for the dead man. Amelia didn't know which god the people of Hysode worshipped, but maybe the dead man's soul would appreciate the thought, if nothing else.

"Looks like he died alone," Gourry said when they finished.

"I don't think so, Gourry." Lina had walked over the lip of what looked like a gentle slope. Her voice was grim.

When they caught up to her, they saw why.

Below them were three stakes, driven into the snow, from which three limp figures hung. In the light of the dying sun, their shadows stretched eerie and blue-black across the rose-stained snow, seeming to even reach the edge base of the low ridge they were standing on.

Behind the grisly display, about a standard mile in the distance, lay the town of Hysode, neatly clustered around the road leading in.

"That's weird. The lights are on in the town," Lina said.

"The buildings don't look damaged, either," Zelgadis added.

Lina sighed. "Looks like we've got no choice. Come on."

They slid down the ridge, blood pounding, cold limbs forgotten.

* * *

There were two men and a woman. Each of them had been mutilated in some twisted fashion, but most prominent was the woman, central to the two men. Her head lolled at an unpleasant angle, staring out at them through gory eye sockets. Her scarred breasts were exposed through the tears in the destroyed clothing, stiff with frozen blood. A vindictive wind tore through, teasing at limp strands of her long dark hair with a fiery hiss.

One of the men was literally strung up by blackening innards, those that weren't dangling to the ground. Up close, they could see now each of the victims had been impaled twice, once through the back, and once through their arms, leaving each figure frozen in twisted agony.

A frost that had nothing to do with the weather gripped Amelia's heart. She was a blooded warrior, seen death and dealt death in the name of justice. She was not a child. But she honestly couldn't think of a time—nor wanted to—when she'd seen violence that reached into her guts and churned them like butter. Stinging bile rose into her throat. She was barely able to force it back.

"This is horrible!" she moaned. "It's inhuman."

"No doubt," Zelgadis growled.

"These people are in plain sight of the town…" Sylphiel whispered in horror.

Gourry frowned. His voice was grim, eyes hard. "Why has no one come to bury them?"

Lina's eyes narrowed. She was thinking, and there was a flicker in her eye that told Amelia she was onto something, but she was distracted by the ring of cold metal.

Zelgadis had drawn his sword. "We have to cut them down."

Gourry nodded, and similarly drew.

"STOP!" a man's voice rang out in panic, muffled by the snow. Everyone looked up. Three shapes that looked vaguely like horses were plowing through the snow, kicking up great clumps of it. "Stop, please stop, you fools!

The riders stopped just short of the party, and Amelia realized that they were not horses, but enormous goat-like creatures, with wide curled horns, stiff shaggy hair and short, stern beards, puffing hot steam from their wide red-rimmed nostrils. The men on their backs resembled them in everything but the horns.

"How can you say that?" Amelia shouted.

"'Fools?'" Lina demanded, pointing at the travesty behind her. "These are your people, right? You don't seriously expect us to just leave them strung up on display like that."

The man astride the leading goat creature, characterized by his grip on a staff with a red lantern dangling from it and golden broach fastening his cloak, wasn't even looking at her. He and the others were looking around, shifty-eyed and fearful.

"Please," he said, "I will explain. But we must get away from here—if you value your lives, follow us!"

The air inside the inn was warm, but there was something about the air in here that seemed to stretch it thin and cold, like spilled soup, despite the fire roaring in the hearth. The common room, already large by Zelgadis' standards, seems especially enormous. About two dozen large, well-worn round tables and their accompanying chairs loomed unused in the background. The tinny banging of a single cook's pots and pans echoed sadly from the kitchen, betrayed only by the yellow light spilling through a crack in the door from just beyond where the low staircase leading to the second floor receded into nothing. The smell of dust festered like something dead in a puddle of standing water.

He and the others sat clustered around the fireplace, each holding mugs of some kind of strong tea. The three men, having introduced themselves as Gris, Fiebras and Durand of the local council, faced them. The one who introduced himself as Gris kept glancing uncomfortably in Zelgadis' direction, looking, then shifting away, before looking again—that same, stupid look that people had when observing a cripple, or his stupid, stone-studded face. Zelgadis' stomach tightened. His fingers itched to pull his mask up, but doing so now would be even more embarrassing. He glared at Gris once before looking away like he didn't care. He shouldn't—Durand was the one with the staff, and so far had been doing the talking, leading Zelgadis to conclude that this man was the one with actual rank. No need to pay attention to the other one.

"We're very sorry that you had to see that," Durand apologized, dipping his head to them.

"So are we," Lina retorted, sipping her tea. "You'd better have a pretty good reason for leaving them up there like that. Start talkin', Pops."

At the mention of the victims, Durand's face twisted in grief. "You have had the unfortunate luck to visit us in a time of crisis."

_Believe me, this is nothing new to us_, Zelgadis wanted to say, but bit it back. He was too interested in the point to deter the old man with remarks like that.

"We're nothing but a peaceful city, welcoming to travelers and visitors alike. Our hope is that all who leave us do so with warm memories of this place and her people." He folded his hands over his staff, "Then one day, about two months ago, both travelers and locals started disappearing in about a six mile radius surrounding Hysode. When they did appear, it would be at least a mile away from where it happened, and…" he trailed off and shook his head.

"They were killed?" Gourry finished for him.

"Yes," Gris sighed. "Almost all of them were defiled or disfigured in some fashion."

"'Now hold on—you say _almost_ all of them?" Zelgadis frowned.

Durand nodded. "Yes. No one travels around here alone. Locals and visitors alike are encouraged to travel in groups of two or more—in a place with winters such as these, it is the safest way. But whenever these creatures attacked, they would always leave one survivor, unharmed."

"One survivor?" Amelia repeated, clearly confused.

Lina narrowed her eyes. "Let me guess: that one survivor would always be dropped off within walking distance of Hysode."

"Yes. How did you—?"

"But we didn't find a survivor," Gourry protested, rubbing his temple.

Amelia's eyes widened. Her shoulders hunched imperceptibly, the muscles in her back tightened. She gripped her tea and looked up. "Yes, we did. The man we buried. He was the survivor."

Zelgadis straightened, having caught on, recalling the curved blade in the dead man's hand. "I see. The man we buried was left alive, but he went back to avenge the deaths of his companions." It made sense. Amelia's deep sense of justice and balance (however brittle and short sighted it occasionally was) did lend itself to such logic, and in this case, she was right.

"But why?" Sylphiel asked in confusion. "Why leave them alive?"

"I'll tell you why. The perps of these crimes are monsters."

"How did you figure that out?" Durand said in surprise.

"Simple," Lina replied. "There's only one reason for them to leave a survivor—to go back and tell all of you that someone has died. Everyone connected to that person would come out, cry and grieve and generally be miserable."

"Worse." Gris put a hand over his face, as if to shield himself from what he was about to say. "Over the course of about three days, they destroy the bodies. They'll scatter them all over the six mile radius."

"Proving my point. Now, tell me, what do monsters feed on?"

"Of course. Monsters feed on negative emotional energy. So when all the people come out to bury the dead, the monsters reappear and chase you all back here or maybe even kill another person, and the whole town is enslaved to fear. Scattering the body parts just adds to it and prolongs the suffering." Amelia said, clenching her fists.

"That explains why this place hasn't been smashed to bits already," Zelgadis concluded. "It's a fear-farm." He had to admit, this was pretty creative. Although it did speak volumes about the monsters here. Usually, the weaker the monster, the less sophisticated they tended to be—and this was a well-thought out scheme that could last indefinitely. Or at least, until the town died, or the monsters got bored.

It was at this point that the cook brought out several bowls of a thick stew made with what smelled like smoked meats, cabbage and root vegetables. While Zelgadis couldn't exactly begrudge the councilmen for the gesture, they had to be out of their minds if they thought anyone was going to be hungry after what they all just witnessed, warriors or not.

Scratch that—anyone except Lina, who'd started to shovel stew into her mouth the moment the bowl hit the table.

"Truly amazing," Durand said in awe.

"Indeed," Zelgadis sighed under his breath.

"What did you expect," Lina grunted through a mouthful of stew, "From the beautiful sorcery genius Lina Inverse?"

Zelgadis could only make out what she said based on the facts that one, he was expecting her to say something along those lines, and two, the number of syllables in the gobledegook she actually spouted. When it was clear that her intended audience hadn't understood her, she swallowed, brandished her spoon and repeated herself.

"The famous Lina Inverse! The spirit of the Water Dragon King smiles upon us!" Durand clasped his hands eagerly.

"That's right!" Lina said proudly.

"They must really be desperate if they're that happy to see _her_…" Gourry whispered pensively in Zelgadis' ear.

"Despite her terrible reputation…"

"Too right…"

"_What was that?"_ Lina flung her empty bowl of stew across the way, hitting Gourry square in the face. Once he dribbled to the floor on impact, Lina promptly grabbed Gourry's bowl as well.

The usual negotiations, as they were, went as swiftly as could be expected.

There had never been much of a question in Zelgadis' mind as to whether or not they were actually going to fight the monsters and free the town. Given that this was a tourist town, and a wealthy one if the state of the buildings, furnishings and clothes of the people who lived here, they were obviously in a position to tempt Lina to help.

Besides…

He shifted his gaze from the haggling parties in various states of distress to Amelia, who had gone very quiet. Her eyes were uncharacteristically hard, lidded unfocused, her knuckles having whitened at the joints. A thin sheen of grease was forming on her untouched soup.

Even if Lina hadn't agreed, Zelgadis got the feeling that Amelia would have put her foot down. And Lina would never turn away from a friend.

He was testament to that.

"All right. So the terms are these: we'll go kill the monsters, you'll give us _this _much, if we find the treasure in the lake we get go keep it and you'll put us up for five days for free afterward. Sound good?"

"Lina, don't you think that's a bit much?" Sylphiel whispered in Lina's ear. "It's not as if these people can say no…"

"Shut up, Sylphiel, this is business! Right, boys?"

The 'boys' in question could only agree. Zelgadis rolled his eyes. Shrewd business woman indeed. Far from Lina being heartless—her heart was just in her stomach most of the time. He almost suggested she give them a break when Lina started to talk again,

"Right! You three, make sure you have the gear set out for us before daybreak! We'll need every ounce of daylight we can get if we're going to get the drop on those monsters."

"Daybreak?" Amelia looked up. "You mean we're not going now?"

Lina turned to look at her. Her voice softened, adopting the "teacher" tone Zelgadis occasionally heard when she was trying to be reassuring and rational at the same time. It rarely worked. "Amelia, be reasonable," she began, "First off, it's way too cold to try and fight a monster or monsters in territory we don't know—at night, in deep snow. We'll have a better chance during the day, when we can at least see our enemy."

"But this isn't right!" Amelia stood up, eyes bright. "Those foul creatures are getting away with the vilest kind of cruelty. Tormenting and desecrating the dead, scattering them all over…what about their families? What about justice?"

"Justice isn't always served immediately, Amelia," Sylphiel said quietly.

"And if we're going to administer it, we need to be in a position to do so," Zelgadis added.

"You too, Mr. Zelgadis?"

Zelgadis was taken aback. He didn't expect her to turn to him directly. He bristled. "Now, look…"

But taking her in now, noting the crease in her brow, the look in her eye, the set of her mouth…his thoughts fragmented momentarily. In that moment, she'd already turned away and stormed up the stairs.

Zelgadis sighed after her, shaking away the residue of his momentary lapse. What had that been about?

Whatever. He knew now what was coming next.

* * *

He didn't bother trying to sleep. What he did do is set out his winter gear and inspect the contents of the pack the councilmen had left outside his door (they'd each given them one). It was identical to the one they'd found on the first dead man. Had he been superstitious, this could have been interpreted as a bad omen. There was a tightly rolled thick woolen blanket, a straw-thin, collapsible hollow rod thing that stretched out almost six feet when he extended it but compressed into about six inches otherwise, flit rocks, sturdy candles, a small lantern, a tough length of thin rope, a brightly colored red ribbon, and some dried food supplies crammed in. Strapped to the back was a tiny shovel.

Even with everything inside, it didn't feel terribly heavy to him. But it did strike him as a little strange. After all, the theory was that they were simply going to go out and kill the monsters. This gear would do little more than slow them down in a fight. But then again…

The howling wind outside drummed against the window. Little pellets of ice and rock pattered against it like the insistent tapping of a witch's talons.

Given what was about to happen, he supposed he should be grateful for it. If something were to go wrong—and it always, invariably did—they might need it.

He considered the snow clothes that had been given to them. They consisted of a bulky pair of boots and trousers, another shirt and a heavy cloak. He sighed through his nose. Now he knew that these people didn't have a clue. This sort of thing should go in the pack if it was going to be used at all, at least for fighters.

Zelgadis himself was a special case, though. He'd only need the cloak to block out the worst of the wind. Anything more would limit his mobility—already compounded by the snow's depth and his own weight, thanks to the density of his skin and bone, damn Rezo—even more.

Actually…he grimaced. It was thanks to what Rezo did to him that he could afford to go out without the extra protection. He ground his teeth and tried to visualize locking the thoughts away. He fastened the cloak, strapped on the pack, and crept down the stairs to wait, situating himself by the dying fire in the hearth.

He didn't have to wait long.

By the time the feeble flames shriveled into little more than red coals, he heard the tentative creak of a door. Furtive footsteps padded along the length of the hallway. The attempt at stealth was rather undermined by the subtle shift and clank of the contents of a pack and the heavier, slightly more awkward step of its bearer as she snuck down the stairs.

He glimpsed her when she reached the landing. Bulked up by the winter clothes and shouldering the pack, she seemed comically tiny.

She tripped on the last step, falling heavily to the ground with a thick thud. She froze. Even from his place in the shadow, Zelgadis could imagine her holding her breath, listening for any potential disturbance. When none was forthcoming, she started to pick herself up and inch towards the door.

It was at this point that Zelgadis emerged from the darkness.

"You're not seriously planning to go out there alone."

She squeaked and reeled backwards in shock, pack rattling noisily as she recoiled. Her eyes were wide and guilty. "M-Mr. Zelgadis!" But it only took her a moment to regain her composure. She swallowed, her eyes crystalizing into a stubborn resolve that screamed out that there was nothing anyone could do to convince her that what she was doing was phenomenally stupid.

Stupid, maybe. But he couldn't help but consider a strange stirring in his guts, a soft settling of something inside—like there was something broken or displaced, and Amelia's action was pushing it back into place. She did that a lot. More so than anyone else, there was something pure about Amelia—naïve and occasionally foolish, but it was there, and it was familiar.

She set her mouth. "Yes. I'm going to take down those people and bury them before those monsters can do anymore unspeakable things to them. They may be dead, but they still matter, and there's nothing you can say that will stop me."

"Moron." He sighed. "Does it look like I'm trying to stop you?"

She blinked. Her eyes widened when she finally noticed the winter cloak and the pack, her face split into a wide grin.

"Thank you, Mr. Zelgadis."

Listening to the wind outside, Zelgadis wondered if she wouldn't perhaps retract this sentiment inside of a few minutes.

Somehow, looking at her huge, ridiculous starry eyes, he doubted it.

"Come on. Let's get this over with."

* * *

When Lina woke up with her face squashed into the floor, she realized exactly what had happened.

First, she'd fallen off the bed. That much was obvious. Secondly, Amelia hadn't been there to stop her from rolling off. Three, Sylphiel was utterly useless as a sentry.

She sat up, rubbing her cheek. "Dammit!" The sheets were rumpled evidence of Amelia's quick exit. Lina had guessed what was going to happen. Sylphiel, who'd said she wasn't sleepy offered to stay awake and keep an eye on the princess, and Lina had stupidly taken her up on that. Sylphiel wasn't as used to travelling as they were, and after a week of tromping through the mountains, the poor girl was probably sore in places she didn't think she could be sore in. Lina thought back to her early days of travelling—God, when she was thirteen? She remembered being sore in her arms of all places after hiking a mountain and being surprised, the sharp ache in the arches of her feet after literally walking an entire day, the heaviness and stiffness of the neck that came with sleeping in rough, lumpy patches of dirt and trees. All child's play, now.

Though Lina had to admit—for someone closer to tourist than full-time adventurer, she hadn't heard even a peep of complaint out of her. She was a trooper, if nothing else.

But all that was definitely beside the point.

"Sylphiel! Wake up!"

Sylphiel started awake. The moment the sleep left her eyes they filled up with gray apology. "Oh no! Ms. Lina, I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"

"Get dressed!" Lina didn't stay to listen to the rest of the apology. She threw on her clothes and ran out the door.

She kicked the door open to Gourry and Zel's room with a crash. Predictably, Gourry, tangled awkwardly in his sheets, didn't move. One look confirmed what she had already guessed—Zel's bed on the other hand, was already neatly made up. His sword, pack and snow cloak were gone. He'd left behind some other things too, like the snow clothes, but seeing that he'd neatly folded them back up, she figured it was intentional.

While it did ease her fears about one thing, the fact remained that both of those idiots had obviously gone off to take the dead bodies down. Zel probably guessed what was going to happen—as Lina had—and accompanied Amelia rather than try and stop her. The difference was that Zel had better timing.

Speaking of timing, she wasn't sure how long they'd been gone. She patted the sheets on Zelgadis' bed—cold as stone. Great. He either hadn't even tried to sleep at all, or they'd been gone for a while. She hoped it was the former. She had no doubt that Amelia and Zelgadis were capable, but fighting monsters was always a dirty, dangerous business. They almost never got out unscathed except by the skin of their teeth. Even low class monsters like Siegrim had been trouble.

Here, they were dealing with at least two of them, who displayed an open savagery that surprised even her, and she had a pretty good idea of the depths to which monsters could sink. She was a realist, after all.

She finally managed to wake Gourry by overturning the bed.

"What happened?" he slurred, rubbing his head.

"Dawn's come faster than we thought." Lina snapped, throwing his clothes at him.

"It has…?"

Mentally, she cursed herself. She shouldn't have fallen asleep. No, Amelia shouldn't have been so reckless! Those bodies out there were just bodies, those peoples weren't _there_ anymore, so why-?

Well, because Amelia. Amelia and her principles. And Zelgadis, for not being able to screw up the guts to tell her no! She ground her teeth together. She'd always privately thought of him as a turtle—for all his facades of toughness and skin closer to stone than flesh, his insides were still soft and very human. Especially towards a certain big-eyed, crazy little princess.

Despite the situation, a knowing smirk almost twisted its way across her features. He probably thought no one noticed. Nothing escaped Lina Inverse!

"Mr. Zelgadis is gone too? How did they escape without us knowing?"

"Never mind that," Lina cut her off and headed for the door, "Those monsters are bound to show up, and if we don't want our friends to end up like those guys, we'd better hoof it."

"But what about these?" Gourry lifted the snow pack. Lina shook her head.

"We're only going to be gone long enough to drag those idiots back here! We don't need anything slowing us down. Come on!"

* * *

The wind was starting to pick up.

It was hissed and teased their heavy winter cloaks, like a cat finding itself with a very stupid mouse between its paws. It stretched out its claws, pulled back, batted snow at them, but hadn't gotten vicious yet, despite the fact that he could barely see what he was doing now.

_This is stupid_, he thought as he cut down each of the stakes with his sword. The bodies each hit the ground with a soft _whump_, one by one. They couldn't remove the stakes without making an even bigger mess of the bodies, but in their early attempt to do so, Zelgadis noticed that at least one area of flesh on the backs of the victims were completely unharmed—except for crudely carved runes that seemed to spell out…

"Sadluyok? Tonrar?" Amelia read them out slowly. "These aren't…?"

Zelgadis shook his head.

They'd gotten here before the monsters did. But knowing that almost made it even harder to sheathe his sword again. The blade slid back with a frosty rasp. _We're sitting ducks out here_.

But still, even as they dug makeshift graves as fast as they could—the snow kept trying to refill the holes—he couldn't help but feel a grim sense of closure as the desecrated bodies disappeared into the earth. This had been the right thing to do.

When the snow had swallowed the last body, he stowed his shovel and staggered over to where Amelia was. She was shivering—but only a little, the physical exertion of shoveling snow like a deranged mole kept her blood warm—but a small, sad smile lifted her features.

"Now they can rest," she said. Zelgadis nodded. It was getting hard to see the town through the thickening scrim of snow. None of the lights had been turned on (to discourage this very sort of venture), and the dark shape was smudged as though by the careless thumb of a painter. If they didn't hurry, they wouldn't be able to find their way back, even in flight.

"Let's get out of here."

"_I think not._"

A low rasp of a voice rattled in the quickening winds. Zelgadis', who had been tense and anticipatory already was almost relieved that the monster had finally shown up. Almost. He didn't draw his sword, instead falling into a ready-casting stance. The voice gave the impression of coming from nowhere, and to any other ears, might have even seemed ephemeral. But he could feel the vibration of sound in the snow before them—the ripple of something big shifting in the ice.

Maybe he could surprise it.

"_Dam Brass!"_ A sphere of red light burst from his palms, plowing through the snow with a familiar rumble that almost-but-not-quite hurt his ears and shook the ground. A screeching howl split the air. Something huge and sinuous thrashed around beneath their feet. Reflexively, Zelgadis grabbed Amelia and dove out of the way, just as the snow they'd been standing on exploded in a shower of ice and frozen dirt.

A Monster slithered out of the snowy crater with a reptilian rasp and a strange popping sound, like crackling bones. It loomed up to a height of what Zelgadis guessed to be about fifteen feet at least—fifteen feet of what looked initially looked like the torso of a hideously deformed human skeleton, and the lower half of some hellish, slowly decaying python, although a moment's scrutiny was all he needed to realize that desiccated gray flesh was stretched painfully over blackening bones that poked through the hide around the mouth, spiny ribs and hands. The skeleton's bones were wretchedly elongated, the hands huge and ending in frost-tipped, scythe-like talons crusted with the black brown of frozen blood. The mouth was full of saw-like teeth, the lower jaw jutting out like that of an angler fish.

"_It's not nice to take away other people's toys, you know," _The monster said. As it spoke, a sickly red light bloomed in the darkness of the skull's eye sockets. _"We even marked our names on them to let everyone know."_

"Toys?" Amelia snarled. "You've killed and desecrated the bodies of innocent people! That's unforgivable! You've dared showed your face to us, and now we'll show you no mercy! Your names don't matter. Elmekia Lance!" A shaft of burning white light speared towards the monster with a shriek, which raised a claw and batted at it like a hellish cat.

It turned out to be a mistake. The shaft of like sizzled through the Monster's hand, drawing from it a high pitched scream of pain and anger.

"_Our names matter more than you think, you little witch," _it grated, a viscous miasma rising off its injured hand. _"They'll be the last thing anyone remembers of you when we use your bodies to write them out!"_

"Not likely, fiend!" Amelia replied. Emboldened by her small victory, she launched herself at the monster, fist glowing.

The monster screamed, brandishing its claws. _"Tonrar!"_

Zelgadis had been waiting for this. He'd been trying to pinpoint the second Monster, stirring somewhere in the snow in front of the first one. It was trickier, but as soon as he sensed it coiling up to attack, Zelgadis plunged his hand into the snow, sending out a crackling pulse of magical energy.

"_Dug Haut!"_

Jagged spikes of frost-hardened earth speared out of the ground with brittle cracking sounds, sending up a wall of snow and with it, the howling form of another serpentine beast. This one fell to the ground with a flurry of ice, but righted itself with alarming speed. Tonrar—its companion had to be Sadluyok by process of elimination— had the upper half of some kind of beast, a bear or something similarly toothy and enormous.

"_How adorable_," it said, clacking its teeth together. _"A man and a woman? Those fools are practically doing our jobs for us."_

What could it possibly mean by that? Zelgadis flung a Flare Arrow directly at its face. The monster dodged and launched itself towards Zelgadis', black maw wide open. Zelgadis moved to dodge, but in shifting to the left, sunk several feet into the snow. He didn't even have time to curse before the monster's blow punched him several inches into a boulder several yards behind him with a loud crack, crushing the air out of his lungs.

"Mr. Zelgadis!"

His world went black for about a second. When he blinked back, he lurched unsteadily to his feet, just in time to see both monsters send crackling beams of blue-white energy at Amelia, who immediately brought a ward to bear—only for it to blast to bits under the combined onslaught.

"Amelia!" He charged towards the blast, the forms of the monsters writhing just visible within the dissipating vapor. As soon as he was close enough to make out the form of Sadluyok, he leaped.

"_Astral Vine!" _ the incantation had barely left his throat when he brought the imbued blade down, aiming for the skeleton's glowing red eye, when Sadyulok reached into the fog and pulled Amelia's limp form up to shield his face.

Zelgadis' strike faltered mid swing as his breath snagged in his throat. Before he could recover, cold, viselike claws clamp around his torso and crush him into the ground. Even in the numbing cold he could feel the talon's blade-like edges pressing against his ribs, seeking to draw blood but stopped by his stony skin. Zelgadis thrashed furiously, but with Tonrar's claw pinning his chest down. There wasn't much he could do except try to stab at the Monster's wrist with his sword. But as soon as his fist tightened enough for the strike, Sadluyok spoke.

"_Drop that sword, or I will tear this girl in half." _

Amelia had just come to, struggling similarly against Sadluyok's grip.

"_You two are much stronger than the humans who usually blunder out into our wilderness," _ Tonrar added, leading more of his weight onto Zelgadis' ribs, who was struggling to breathe as the Monster pushed him deeper into the snow. Something inside the pack snapped. _"But no matter how strong you are, you are still just humans. The man's strength always falters when his woman is involved. And the woman is no match for us." _

_My woman?_ Had the situation not been so dire, he might have been embarrassed. He also might have pitied these two. Was that just him, or could he hear a familiar voice, chanting something against the strengthening winds?

"You have no idea what's going on in the world right now, do you?" he choked out. Best keep them still and distracted. Amelia seemed to notice it too, and stopped struggling—as though she'd given up.

Monsters' strength was always their greatest weakness. In trying to wring negative energy out of their victims, they had to keep them alive as long as possible when they could afford to. That wasn't the case here.

"_What was that?_" Tonrar growled, learning his face into Zegladis'.

"The most powerful human alive," Zelgadis wheezed, "is a woman."

As if on cue, Tonrar exploded with a scream in a roaring torrent of red flame. A blistering wave of heat seared Zelgadis' body for an instant before dissipating—a heat so intense that he couldn't breathe even when the pressure pinning him down gave way. But in a moment, it was as if the Monster never was, leaving nothing but an ashy impression in the snow where he used to be. And even that disappeared a few seconds after the attack dissipated entirely.

In the same heartbeat, he heard Amelia's voice, "_Elmekia Flame!"_ The blazing light blast a sizzling hole in Sadluyok's chest, who dropped her with a shriek of fury. Amelia righted herself instantly backed into a defensive stance next to Zelgadis.

"It's Miss Lina!" Amelia said, glancing behind them.

"I noticed." Lina, Gourry and Sylphiel were all charging towards them—each brandishing their preferred weapon. In the howling winds, kicking up curtains of snow, Zelgads could barely distinguish their forms.

"_Amelia! Zelgadis!"_ Lina's voice rang out, all but stolen by the now crippling winds. _"Move it or lose it!"_

"_The rest of the party," _Sadluyok snarled. _"Seems I have no choice._"

Lightning fast, the monster buried itself in the snow.

"You're not getting away!" Zelgadis growled. "Amelia!"

"Right!"

"_Dug Haut!"_ they shouted in unison. The ground stirred and cracked around them again, sizzling with magical energy and vibrating with what felt like solid impact. Predictably, the force of the attack hurled the monster out of the snow, but instead of surprising or even hurting it, Zelgadis realized too late what had happened.

"_I wasn't trying to escape._"

Sadluyok had coiled its length in a circle around the two of them, and when the Dug Haut forced it upwards, it rode the wave of force snatched them it its claws as quick as a striking snake. Zelgadis knew what was coming next, but the blue light gathering in his hand wasn't going to be quick enough.

* * *

This stupid snow! The wind kept blowing it into her face and eyes, making it damn near impossible to see. That Burst Flare had been a lucky shot, only because for some reason the monster was stupid enough to stand still. She had barely been able to see it.

At this point, she and the others were close enough to see the attack had been a success, but even then could barely tell what was going on—even about fifty feet away she could hardly see, and even flying it was as though they couldn't get there fast enough.

By the time they could make anything out clearly, the remaining monster had already grabbed Zelgadis and Amelia. Its outline was already blurring as it hissed something out at them—she could see the beginning of a Bram Blazer flickering to life in Zelgadis' hand, the crackling white flame of Amelia's Visvanfrank, starting in her own—

Just as they disappeared in a puff of viscous smoke, blown away by the blizzard winds.

"Damn you!" Lina screamed at it. "Come back here, you ugly bastard!"

The shrieking winds practically tore the words from her mouth and dashed them into nothing. Even so, that didn't stop her.

"Amelia! Zel!"

She skidded to a halt where they had disappeared. They were gone. And in a few minutes, the blizzarding skies would erase even what was left of the battlefield.

* * *

_To Be Continued..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**For Granted, part 2**_

* * *

Vision and hearing darkened. Zelgadis' skin felt like it was flaking away into wheat chaff—painlessly, as if in a dream. For one terrifying heartbeat Zelgadis was aware only his consciousness, spinning naked in a black void.

And then it was back—flesh, sight and sound falling back in on him like a sack of bricks—the bright white of the snows howling around them, the crackling and snarling of the monster as it brought its arms to bear, the tingling of the beginnings of the spell in his hand and he remembered what he was doing—

"_Bram Blazer!"_

"_Visfarank!"_

For a moment, there was nothing but the searing blue-white blaze of the attacks, the knife-edged grip around his ribs. Then a pained shriek pierced the wind. The grip vanished, and Zelgadis plunged to the snow fifteen feet below with a faint _crunch_ sound as he pounded through about four feet of it. Even submerged in the deepening snow he heard a lighter, softer thump somewhere close to his head—doubtlessly Amelia. There was a mighty tremor through the ground, as if the earth itself was shuddering at the battle, and then, nothing.

For a moment, he was still. There seemed to be a big _gap_ in the space where the monster had been, its deathly presence gone. Zelgadis scraped himself together and sat up, blinking crystals of ice from his vision.

The monster was nowhere to be seen.

He looked around, trying to ignore the whirling snowflakes trying to cram themselves down the back of his collar, the tinny whipping of his steel-wire hair tickling irritatingly against the tips of his numbed ears—it was _cold_. There was nothing but furious, whirling white in every direction he looked. Nothing else—except for a rare scrap of gray sky. Snow and shards of ice whirled around them with a vengeance, forcing him to squint his eyes against the onslaught.

A sudden noise, muffed by the snow brought him back.

"Amelia!" he lurched out of his snow crater and waded over to where Amelia was, half-buried under almost six inches of snow. He helped her upright, absentmindedly batting snow out of her hair and face. Her nose was red, her face pale. She sniffed loudly.

"Did we win?"

Zelgadis glanced back to where the monster had stood. Nothing but a trough, already half-filled with new snow remained. Monsters never left traces when they died. He never thought he might someday need the confirmation. He frowned.

"I think so."

"Oh, g-g-g-ood," Amelia shivered. "But what do we do now? I d-d-on't see the town anymore." She was rubbing her arms furiously, as though trying to recall the blood that had doubtlessly retreated back into the center of her body. "How will we find Ms. Lina and the others?"

Zelgadis breathed out heavily through his nose, suddenly very his breath's warmth as he realized the gravity of the situation. They couldn't see more than five feet in any direction, and the wind was only getting worse. It wouldn't matter if they were walking or flying.

"We're not going to."

"_What?"_

There was no way Amelia would last through the night—or probably even the storm—without some form of shelter. Even he wouldn't be able to resist total exposure in the middle of a whiteout for as long as it might take for the blizzard to die down, or for someone to find them. This was a bad situation. But…

He hefted the pack on his shoulders. At least it wasn't an unsalvageable one.

"Have you still got your shovel?"

"You mean this?" Amelia had unhooked her shovel from the back of her pack. Zelgadis nodded and reached around for his own. To his chagrin, the shaft had snapped clean in two. He considered the ice built up on the iron. He'd have to simply use the spade on its own then. It wouldn't hurt his hand, like it might someone else, but it would waste energy he didn't want to spare.

"Start digging."

For the first time since they'd been stranded out here, something wintery nudged at Zelgadis heart. A monster was one thing. This was a very different kind of battle—one against time as it was against their true enemy, this damned snowstorm. The best you could do was endure. Zelgadis was good at enduring. But Amelia…she was tough, no denying that, but…

He shook his head. But nothing. She was a warrior, she had grit, and experience. She was strong. He had to stop worrying about her and try to remember how to survive a blizzard. Both of their lives depended on it now.

* * *

No one had said anything yet, but Lina knew it was coming. Frustrated, she kicked a clump of snow. It was all perfect, wasn't it? Her face and fingers felt like they were made of rubber, and for all the protection the thin cottons of her clothes gave her she might as well be standing knee-deep in this snow butt-naked. She was absolutely lousy with goosebumps and she was pretty sure her nose was starting to run a little, too.

But more importantly, she couldn't see a damn thing, and the monster was long gone with both Zel and Amelia.

"Do you think they're…?" Sylphiel whimpered fearfully. Lina cut her off.

"No, Sylphiel. They both had some fight in them when that thing carried them off, and the monster was pretty badly wounded. They took care of it."

"How can you be so sure?" Gourry shivered from behind. "We have to keep looking for them."

"Yes, we can't just leave them out here in this snowstorm!" Sylphiel added, making a fist.

"Guys, be reasonable," Lina's exasperation was kind of undermined by the fact her voice was shivering as much as the rest of her. "We won't be of any help to them if we get lost out here, too. Besides, we didn't bring those survival packs." She blew out her breath in a white puff. "The best we'll be able to do if go look for when the snow stops."

"What if we're too late?" Sylphiel asked. Lina shook her head.

"Come on, have a little faith," Lina waggled her finger at them. "If there's one thing we can trust Zel to do, it's survive."

"And take care of Amelia."

"That too."

The thought almost made her laugh. She'd known and observed Zelgadis long enough to know he had more "camping survival" savvy than any of them put together. Lina had never really seen much to snow survival—good luck catching her freezing her ass off in some wilderness, and well, if you did, she'd figure something out. That was just who she was.

But Zelgadis' cripplingly awful self-esteem issues pushed him to hoof it out in the wilderness far more often than any of them—and his time as Rezo's brute probably served him in that regard as well. But fundamentally, Zel was way too proud and stubborn to let something as mundane as a little blizzard take him out. Or at least, Lina thought with a smirk, he thought he was. As long as he had someone who could remind him of who he _wante_d to be, he'd pull through. No one was better for that job than Amelia. _And I'm sure Amelia wouldn't mind being stuck in some snow cave with Zelgadis for an few hours._

She was pretty sure Zelgadis knew how to make a snow cave.

"There's nothing to worry about," Lina said, turning towards the dark smudge that was the town. The others followed her. She didn't have to see them to know the looks on their faces—doubt and worry pulling their features down like putty.

She clenched her teeth. She was making the right decision. There was nothing they could do in the present right now. They couldn't go find the second monster—hell, they could barely find their own butts with both hands in this weather. Zel and Amelia would be fine, and they would go looking for them the second the wind let up.

So if that was the case, why did she still feel helpless?

She shook her head. The second the snowstorm let up. Not one moment more.

* * *

The snow shelter actually reminded him of one of those circular outdoor ovens, incongruously enough. It had come together with shockingly few setbacks, and he couldn't help but wonder when the other shoe was finally going to drop. They were shaping the entrance tunnel, now.

Amelia attacked the snow like it had committed some great act of injustice, flinging clumps of it up and over in the manner of a small, enthusiastic dog. But a small, enthusiastic dog was an apt descriptor—with the volume of the snow they had to move. She paused, panting, white puffs of breath stolen from her mouth and nose almost before they exited.

To think that a few hours ago, they'd been digging graves.

Zelgadis stilled, unsure. He started to ask if she was all right, when she looked up and gave him a weak smile. He froze. There was sweat freezing on her brow. He bit the inside of his mouth. She had to pace herself. At this rate—

Amelia's eyes suddenly widened, lit up by shock and anger.

"Look out!" In her left hand crackled the beginnings of an Elmekia Lance, and with the other—

She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked. Unprepared, Zelgadis, with all the grace and balance of a one wheeled hay wagon on a switchback plunged into the snow with a stifled yelp. A rumble thundered through the ground.

"Elmekia—"

A heavy _thud_ bit the incantation off. Dammit! There she was, doing it again, taking a hit for him. Zelgadis spat the snow that had filled his mouth from the pratfall and exploded out of the snow with a roar, fists blazing.

"_Burst Flare!"_

He didn't have to see the bastard to know it was there—Zelgadis could hear its hacking, growling laughter and feel the ripples running through the ground when the monster thrashed through the snow.

"_Too slow!"_ Sadluyok raked his claws through the air, catching Zelgadis full on. Bright yellow lights burst behind his eyelids. The blow sent him flying through the air, only to land like a millstone dropped off the edge of a tower. The surface beneath him gave with a spidery crack. He sat up, pulling his stubbornly doubled vision back together as he scraped away shards of splintered ice from his face.

Ice? He stood up. He hadn't seen it from where they'd been building the snow shelter, but spread out before him was the mighty River Hysode. Ambitious snowdrifts crept and spread out over its stippled surface, as though trying to hide the water—but the strength of Hysode's current, frothing beneath the glassy ice was enough to keep it visible, if only in spotty patches.

"Tch!" he edged away from the frozen river. He was lucky. Had Sadluyok hit him any harder, he would have landed halfway out and gone straight through.

A scream brought him back to battle. Amelia had taken to the air—but the shrieking winds, strong enough to bow the trees hunched on the river's edge so that their bark cracked, batted her out of the sky. Zelgadis caught her in his arms before she could hit the ground.

"Are you all right?"

"I'm okay. We've got bigger problems!" She was bleeding from a wound on her temple, blood already frozen black to her skin. Bad, but they couldn't worry about that now.

Sadyulok's lurid red eyes emerged first from the blizzard followed by its lumbering form. Something was wrong. Its shoulders were at the wrong angle, and it kept lurching to one side. But the beast's eyes blazed with bloodlust, and a thunderous growl gargled from its ruined chest—still smoking from their last attacks. Zelgadis narrowed his eyes and leaned into a casting stance. Amelia copied him, palms outward.

"Looks like he's back for more."

Sadluyok stopped about the length of a small tree away, leaning forward as if in pain.

"_Pathetic," _it hacked out a laugh, leveling a scythe-like claw at him. _"You let the woman took a direct hit for you, even though you're the stronger."_

_Physically, maybe._

"Shut up," Zelgadis retorted, "It's because of her that you've got a crater where your chest used to be."

"No matter if it's taking blows or taking bows, we do it together and for each other!" Amelia declared, her high, clear voice nearly lost to the screaming winds, "Nothing can hold a candle to the powers of love and justice, especially not a fiend like you!"

Zelgadis always felt like his aplomb faltered just that tiniest bit whenever Amelia spouted her silly nonsense in battle, but in the end, if it bolstered her power, so be it.

"_Is that so? Well,_" Sadluyok couldn't smile, but there was a nasty grin echoing around somewhere in that rasp of a voice, _"Let's put that detestable spirit of yours to the test, little girl. See how you can sing such things when I tear your man apart!"_

It hissed and charged towards Zelgadis, thorny jaw hanging open, claws outstretched. Zelgadis bristled—despite its injuries, the monster was fast. He sprang into action, right hand ablaze with blue lightning.

"We'll see about that! _Bram—_" Before he could finish the incantation, Sadluyok aborted the charge. Instead of meeting Zelgadis, the monster burrowed into the snow for an instant before reappearing behind him and clamping down on Amelia with a triumphant roar. Zelgadis hesitated—the unfinished spell exploded in his hand, sending him tumbling back into the snow, just in time to see Sadluyok looming over him, dangling Amelia by the throat.

"_Don't underestimate me, human!" _With that, he turned, and hurled Amelia with the force of a ballista towards the frozen river. She plunged through with an earsplitting crack, and vanished beneath the dark water.

"_Amelia!"_ Zelgadis leaped to his feet, heart ramming into his throat. The river's current was as strong as it was cold, and Amelia had no way to resurface, the shock would have surely prevented her from using any kind of attack to break the—

He saw Sadluyok's attack out of the corner of his eye. He barely managed to dodge as the claw punched into the ground where he'd been standing a moment before. He righted himself with a grunt, heart hammering like it was trying to bust out of his chest—he had no time for this anymore.

But Sadluyok did, which gave Zelgadis an idea. He faltered in the snow, leaving the monster an opening. Clearly flushed with its success, the monster grabbed him and brought him close to its ragged face.

Sadluyok crowed, _"Your little woman is dead." _Zelgadis knew what was coming next, and took a deep breath and braced himself, just as the monster's grip constricted. _"I don't even have to kill you with my own claws anymore. The knowledge that you were too weak to protect her will haunt you for the remainder of your short life. I could kill you slowly and feast off of your grief and agony while your blood sinks into the snow—or, I could let you freeze to death out here, waiting to join her."_

"You should have picked one instead of talking." Zelgadis hissed, freeing his left arm. He'd had the chant already prepared in his mind; all that was left were the chaos words. _"RA TILT!"_

He'd never tried that spell half-suspended, one-armed and out of breath before. He grunted as something in his shoulder strained and jerked—the astral blast nearly tore off his arm. Sadluyok screamed—his claws disintegrated, his body crumbled into nothing as his astral body shriveled under the Ra Tilt's flame. Zelgadis grit his teeth in ghost pain as the spiritual energy lashed at his own astral body—he was too close to the attack to escape entirely unscathed. However, even before Sadluyok disappeared entirely, Zelgadis was already running for the river, sliding out onto the ice to the hole where Amelia had disappeared. Mistake number one, but right now, it couldn't be helped.

He fell to his knees, staring wide-eyed down into the churning black water. For a heart-stopping moment, he thought she was gone, carried away entirely. But he could see something down there—just beneath the surface, holding onto something, or caught onto something, it didn't matter.

"Amelia!" he plunged his arm into the water up to his shoulder, unable to bite back a gasp at the cold, sliding against his stony skin. He still had the presence of mind to recognize that he'd grabbed a fistful of something though and dragged up it up with a groan.

Amelia splashed onto the ice in a flood of hellishly cold water that froze almost immediately on contact with the bitter wind, coughing and shivering like a leaf.

"Are you all right?"

She was shivering so hard that the moment she opened her mouth, her teeth tore into her lips. Her teeth rattled painfully—the best she could do was nod.

She'd lost her pack, but she still had all her winter clothes on. Her wet, slowly freezing winter clothes, that were obviously sucking the heat from her body as a leech did blood.

Zelgadis felt his insides turn to water.

He knew exactly what he was supposed to do now. He could already feel his face start its slow burn as all of his insides seemed to melt into a disgusting, useless goo.

"A-Amelia...you're going to have to…" he started to stammer.

And then she looked up. White as the snow around her, eyes narrowed with pain and cold, lue-lipped, bloody mouthed, wet and frozen clothes…and still she was trying to smile.

"W-w-e w-w-on," she stammered, "T-t-thank-k you f-f-or s-saving m-m-me…"

_All right, Zelgadis, time to grow the hell up. Save her life, you idiot!_

He lurched forward and scooped her up in his arms. "Keep talking," he instructed as he started to run as fast as he could with a soaking girl and several feet of snow. Did he dare risk the wind chill by trying to fly over to where their shelter was? Surely it was the right thing to do if she was already exposed? How was it possible to feel less in control of this situation as opposed to fighting a monster?

Zelgadis decided to risk flight, following the quickly disappearing troughs made by the battle to the amazingly undamaged snow shelter. With their party's luck he honestly half expected to find it stomped to well-packed chunks. As it was, he tried not to think too hard about this good fortune.

Had he been less panicked and more cynical, he might have considered it balanced out by what was coming.

"I'm f-f-freezing Mr. Zelgadis." For a while Amelia had been too cold to really talk at all, breath hitching in her throat as she struggled to force words out. But she had been game to at least try, and even babbling about the obvious flooded Zelgadis with a relief violently counteracted by the nauseating dread of his next instruction for her.

"I know." They'd crawled into the snow shelter. It was damn near pitch black inside, but Zelgadis's eyes drew in even the tiny glimmers of light reflecting off the snow well enough to find the spark rocks, candles and only slightly cracked lantern in the pack and spread them out.

"I'm s-s-sorry I l-l-lost the p-p-ack."

"It doesn't matter."

Now that they weren't outside scrambling for their lives, Zelgadis found himself more aware of the cold. His fingers felt fat and slippery as he fumbled for way too long with the spark rocks, finally igniting a candle. Ghostly orange light split the darkness with a feeble hiss.

The brightness and flickering shadow was playing hell with his vision, but he could see well enough to note the deathly pallor of Amelia's skin. He took a deep breath, but instead of helping, it made him feel worse. It was like there was a nest of angry grass snakes writhing around in his stomach.

"Amelia. Y—you—" This was for her own good, and to hell with his feelings on the matter. He tried to force himself to look at her, perhaps to at least convey some level of apology, anything, but in the end, the best he could do was stare directly into the candle's flame as though to pre-emptively sear his eyeballs. "You're going to have to take off those clothes."

Silence should have descended like a ton of bricks. Instead, Amelia's shivering and the painful clacking of her teeth filled it up.

"I...I…"

"It's not because—look," he forced calm into his voice. The last thing she needed to see was him acting like an idiot. He had to be reassuring and calm, right? "The freezing water is sucking the heat out of your body. If you don't take them off, your temperature will drop, you'll pass out, and you may not wake up."

Her eyes were wide—but he could swear, maybe he was imagining it?—a small blush tinting the tip of her nose and the apples of her cheeks. Wishful thinking, probably. Her blood was probably all collected around her vital organs. But still.

She continued to stare at him with those huge blue eyes, reflecting orange in the candlelight. He swallowed. He was having trouble gauging her expression. It wasn't quite fear—the thought that she might fear him for even a minute was like a punch to the gut—but something close to it. He was afraid that he might have to ask her again, but after what seemed like an age, she spoke.

"I k-k-kind of guessed t-that m-might be the only opt-t-tion…" she turned around a little. "All right, Mr. Zelgadis."

She raised her trembling hands. Her fingers, painfully white with blue veins seemed stiff and dead, and faltered at the frozen knot at her throat. Zelgadis' fingers twitched. His face burned. He watched her try and do it on her own, reluctant to intervene until it became obvious her fingers were too numb to undo the ties herself.

God knew he wasn't that cold anymore. His face alone felt like it was on god-damned fire.

"Um…" he scooted closer to her, half-expecting her to shy away or resist him.

She didn't.

He tugged the knot holding the cloak up sharply, cracking it with a hiss. The garment fell to the floor with an incongruous thudding noise. It was at this point that he dared touch her hand—stifling a gasp, even though his skin her flesh was literally ice-cold—to slide her jewelry off. Trying to keep his hands from shaking, he reached up to touch her neck, looking for the clasp that held her necklace on.

She made a small noise, skin flinching lightly. He tried to swallow. His mouth was dry as sandpaper.

"I'm sorry," he blurted, struggling with the clasp, "My fingers are probably cold." She almost certainly couldn't feel them—but anything to break this silence, even if it was stupid. His words echoed weirdly in the enclosed space, leaving him feel oddly exposed, like he was doing something wrong.

"I-it's not that."

He placed the necklace in the pile with a soft _clink_.

She'd managed to wrestle off her boots and socks on her own, but seemed reluctant to try and raise her arms above her shoulders. Unsurprising, she was freezing. He coughed a little.

"You're going to have to turn around."

"Hmm?"

"Well, you don't _want_ me to see—?"

"N-no!" she shifted on the ice a little, turning her back to him in the candlelight. Candlelight, with its flickering glow and dark shadows caught and defined every little detail in her wet clothes as they clung to her body—Oh, God.

He scooted closer to her, unbuckling the belt that held the garment to her waist, and then reaching for the hem of her tunic. His hand brushed against her thigh as he peeled it upwards, slowly, in terror, as though he was afraid he might tear it in half if he breathed too hard.

"T-try to raise your arms if you can."

The heat in his face intensified, like he'd just thrown a fresh log on an already roaring fire. Everything he said now sounded suggestive to his ears. He could probably say anything right now and sound like a pervert. But this tunic wasn't going to come quietly.

It didn't. It peeled off with an odd, almost sticky sound before he could add it to the pile.

And it was at this point that he wanted to say he was done. Her pants didn't have any difficult ties—he could hear her wiggling out of those. He refused to look in her direction, but he could see them—and something else, something small and—go in the damned pile. He jerked away from it so quickly he thought he heard a crack in his neck, wishing more acutely than anything in his life that he dead monster would come back and eat him.

Then he realized he was being a selfish bastard, because Amelia was sitting behind him, almost entirely naked, and he was sitting in front of her with all his clothes on. In an ice cave. After she'd come out of the water. With that realization he practically ripped his cloak off like it was burning his skin and tossed it behind him.

"Dry off with that…"

He heard the fluttering of cloth settling, tightening. He swallowed. It was probably all right to turn around now. Everything was going to be—

His cloak was draped around her shoulders, wrapped around her middle and pooled over her legs—all well and good, he guessed, but it had fallen open around her chest, where she was struggling with—with—with…

"Um…"

Zelgadis didn't know much about ladies undergarments. Why would he? His own mother had died when he was about eight and what he knew about things like women's monthlies came from Rezo's very limited and metaphor-heavy illustration from when he was young…any supplemental material was primarily derived from the dubious exploits of Rezo's other retainers from around campfires or in taverns. He wasn't entirely ignorant—he was well aware that rich women often wore corsets or something. But the only rich woman he personally knew he had tried not to think of as a "woman", as well as doing his level best not to give thought to what she might wear under her clothes.

He knew now.

Rather, he vaguely knew. It looked kind of like a _truncated _corset with little straps—although at this point they were hanging off her shoulders. More importantly, it looked like the thing laced up in the front.

_Makes sense_, he thought numbly, trying very consciously to form cohesive sentences in his brain. _She's a fighter, and something like this would help with—_to hell with it. His brain didn't feel like cooperating by noticing functional details, instead noticing how the lacing accentuated the smooth curves of her breasts, the—

He couldn't have been staring for more than a second, averting his eyes as soon as his mind caught up with them and staring very fixedly at some point above her head. A sea of conflicting feelings squashed around in his guts.

"Sorry."

"It—it's okay. I'm sorry I can't—"

"It's fine."

There really wasn't much else to say. He screwed up his courage—ha, this wasn't even the most invasive thing he'd have to do tonight. Had this not been happening to him, right now, Zelgadis might have found this situation almost funny. The context for undressing a woman by candle-light was usually a little different than this.

"_You're never appear as nervous as you actually are,"_ Rodimus had told him once, _"You might be afraid of something, someone, some scenario—"_

"_I'm not scared of anything,"_ Zelgadis remembered piping back defiantly. Rodimus had given a tiny smile in response to that, a knowing glitter in his eyes.

"—_and I'm not necessarily talking about swords." _He'd looked in the direction of two women who were passing by the temple steps they were sitting on, one carrying a bucket of water, the other a bundle of linens, heavy skirts brushing against the ground. _"So when you're nervous—you think your heart is pounding so loud surely the whole world can hear, or your voice is wobbling like a weathervane, the one you are facing can't tell. Remember that. It could save your life. In more ways than one, ha!"_

Zelgadis hadn't responded to that, putting his chin in his hand and following Rodimus' gaze to the women's backs as they walked away. He had snorted to himself.

_Women aren't frightening._

God, he'd been a brat back then. Looking at his life now, that impetuous thought was almost as embarrassing as the task at hand.

At first, he tried to unlace the thing without looking at or touching her. It was hard. Even at the best of times, his fingers weren't very sensitive, and with the cold, well…he was struggling with the thing almost as much as she had. She was trembling like a hummingbird's wings, and he knew that if he didn't get his act together she really was going to get sick. In the end, he was forced to look, concentrating fiercely on pulling the laces out of the eyelets and trying to ignore the bounce of her breasts while he did so.

"Mr. Zelgadis?" He flinched, stopped, not daring to look her in the eye, stead fixing at a point on her neck. No, that was just as bad, too. He looked higher, found her mouth—oh, dammit. In the end, she snared his gaze with her huge, cobalt eyes, glimmering in the ghostly light. He couldn't have moved past them even if he wanted to. There was a shyness there, but not shame.

"I-I'm glad…"

_What! _He wanted to say, but for some reason he couldn't unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth.

"I'm g-glad that if—if this had to be the situation—I'm glad it was you."

What in the _hell_ was he supposed to say to that? A lot of things. _Don't make this situation more awkward than it already is! You know exactly what that statement sounds like. Then again, you're a…well, maybe you don' know what it sounds like. Every male member of your family will want to eviscerate me if they ever find out about this. Neither of us will ever live this down. _

…_I'm glad, if this had to happen, that it was you, too. _

But of course, he couldn't articulate any of that. A sort of strangled noise crawled out of his throat, but he swallowed it.

"D-don't mention it."

He was still looking into her eyes when the little garment finally slipped off. He clamped down on a cough, and added it to the complete pile.

Now this was where things had to get uncomfortable.

_You don't appear as nervous as you actually are._

The trousers were staying on. That was an irrefutable fact. For reasons other than his dignity (although to even admit this to himself was nothing short of painful). But…

He started to talk, but the weird, glassy look in her eye told him she wasn't paying attention. Cold, shock, probably. It was one thing when he'd been up in her face, looking into her eyes, but now, well. He could talk and act at the same time, right?

He sighed, and pulled off his shirt.

* * *

"I am going to walk you through this," Zelgadis told her.

Amelia nodded, trying to keep her teeth from chattering any more. Her gums were the only parts of her she could really feel, and they were starting to ache from the clacking of her teeth, stinging all up behind her lips and the back of her jaw.

She should have been mortified by this entire scenario. She was a maiden, a princess—naked and alone with a _man_. No, she wasn't quite naked, but even then she was wrapped up in his cloak that smelled like him but she was so cold that she could barely even feel the ice under her, her toes hurt and it was taking most of her concentration to keep from whimpering, because even if she was freezing, she was a warrior and warriors didn't cry because of pain.

Her thoughts must have drifted off, because she realized he wasn't talking anymore and she hadn't really heard much of what he said—something about skin to skin contact and shared body heat and he was really sorry but he didn't know another way to do this.

She kind of watched him work without really taking in what he was doing. He shuffled through the pack, and pulled out the blanket, spreading it over the slightly raised shelf area of the shelter. He took the lamp, and placed it closer to that spot. Then, he took the pack, jammed it where the entrance was, and turned back to her. Even if his face hadn't been inscrutable, she wouldn't have been able to read it.

Of all the people in the world, Zelgadis was among those she considered her closest friends. It was hard to look at a person with whom you walked hundreds of miles of harsh terrain with, someone who'd shared greasy skewers of stringy rabbit meat out in the wilderness with you when the hunting was bad and there were no towns for exactly forty two standard miles, a person whom you've gotten lost with in random merchant towns and neither of you spoke the local dialect or had any of the local currency, someone who's defied brutal death at your side so many times that there was never any question of whether or not you would be willing to die for them and _not_ think of them as one of your best friends.

She stifled a gasp when he reached out and picked her up. He was kneeling, so after an awkward shuffle, he shifted both of them over to a slightly raised area of the snow cave. At that point, he gently placed her on her side, as if he was afraid she'd shatter like the ice around them if he wasn't careful.

The space was small, barely big enough for two people. But she hardly registered that until he crawled up next to her, and after a twitch of hesitation, pulled his shirt off. For a heartbeat, he was all she could see, a dark silhouette traced in gold fire by the candlelight at his back, strangely warm blue eyes lit by something other than the flame.

Something in her quailed a little but it wasn't from any kind of fear.

Suddenly, there was coarse fabric at her feet—his shirt, balled up and still warm.

"This is going to be cold for a second."

She'd had his cloak wrapped tightly around herself like a little cocoon. But with no more warning than those words, he pried open the cocoon for one heart-stopping moment: heart stopping from the sudden re-exposure to the freezing cave, heart stopping from the fact he'd suddenly pushed his bare torso up against her cold, naked body. He quickly drew what was left of the cloak around them both again, and with a little finagling managed to close the edges of the blanket they were lying on over them as well.

He drew his arms back inside the new, bigger cocoon, and suddenly she could feel his arm, heavy, rough wrap around her waist and pulled her close in a grip that somehow managed to be vicelike and oddly gentle at the same time.

The other arm came around and encircled her shoulders, his hand resting on her ribs, and she barely noticed because he was _warm_, and she couldn't prevent the escape of a small groan of relief. The bitter numbness that had stiffened her flesh against all feeling dripped away, gradually replaced by two things:

Blood, having sluggishly ventured back out to her limbs quickened—and seemed to rush in a hot flood straight to her face and neck. Her gut tightened in on the butterflies whirling around. Part of her was still trying to decide if it was an unpleasant feeling or not.

No man had ever seen her without her clothes before. She was a princess—a maiden! Oh, she would never admit these thoughts out loud, but she'd harbored romantic fantasies before. A love letter, penned with an eagle's feather and fresh roses. A held hand during a misty morning walk through Seyruun's surrounding woodland. A deep embrace—a tender kiss under an indigo sky heavy with stars, eyes gleaming in full moonlight. In these dreams she was always wearing something ornate and gauzy—the sort of gown she stopped asking for when she was little upon realizing you can't wear such fare for a diplomatic event but she still wished she had anyway. But her prince, for he was always a prince, was foggy and featureless—she could never remember the color of his hair, or even his skin when she woke up. But now…Now, she would recall a bluish cast to his skin, the stiff, wiry strands of silvery hair, the odd scales that studded his face…

"I'm sorry. This probably isn't very comfortable," Zelgadis muttered. Amelia squirmed a little. The few stony scales he had on his torso dug lightly against her flesh, and while she realized they would probably leave impressions—how embarrassing!—it wasn't painful.

"It's…"

"Are you still cold?"

His skin had the texture of sun warmed sandstone, oddly rough—though not as one might expect—but not unpleasant. His breath against her neck teased a few strands of damp hair, sending an ill-timed shiver rippling down her spine.

He seemed to take that as a 'yes', because the next thing she knew, he'd pushed his knee between her legs. She stifled a yelp of surprise. He coughed lightly.

"Warming the centers of blood flow…that's what you're supposed to do in a situation like this. It's why I'm—there are a lot of blood vessels in the thighs. Normally you'd use heated rocks, but uh…"

Of course, the height of physical intimacy she'd ever achieved with him was probably that awful time he took the Demon Dragon King's sword to his back for her. He'd crushed her in a bone-breaking grip-they'd careened several feet and he'd twisted around somehow before they hit the ground. For a few seconds all she could do was pound on his chest begging him to get up, while half his life spilled red onto her palms and dribbled down her forearms, soaking the knees of her trousers and swirling across cracked yellow sandstone.

Going from _that_, to the occasional, casual touches of camaraderie—a weirdly heavy hand on the shoulder, a light tap, even the rough "I'm saving your life" shoves of battle—to lying naked in his arms was kind of a big jump.

"How…" She wanted to shift a little, relieve the pressure of his knee, but didn't. "How do you know this kind of thing?"

"I've done this before."

Amelia stiffened in his grip. She didn't think she could flush any redder—thankful for the darkness—but apparently she was wrong. Zelgadis twitched, made a little choking noise.

"No—not like that!" he spluttered. "I…I mean I've been caught in a snowstorm before. Before Rezo did this to me. Some bandits had stormed the town we were wintering in. They stole food supplies that the town couldn't do without, and carried off two young girls."

"How horrible." Amelia made a fist at the thought.

"I guess they didn't think we'd follow them into a snowstorm."

"The Red Priest sent you out into a blizzard?"

Zelgadis sighed. "If he did, would you be surprised?" he asked, his voice a weary growl. Amelia cast her eyes down, leaning her forehead against his chest. "In any case, no, he didn't. He didn't have to. I just chased after them. Zolf and Rodimus…"

Amelia remembered those names. Zelgadis almost never talked about his past, but one night fairly early on in their association, they'd been on sentry duty together while the other two slept. Several attempts at conversation about weather and scenery fell flat before she noticed the gleam of his sword's hilt in the moonlight before a brilliant idea struck her.

"_My father was the one who taught me how to fight_," she'd said proudly. _"Ever since I was little. Where did you learn swords, Mr. Zelgadis?"_

She'd waited with baited breath. He'd looked at her then like she had three heads. She'd deflated, only to stifle a gasp of surprise when he did finally speak, saying that he'd learned swords from a man called Rodimus.

Zelgadis' voice, rumbling lightly in his chest, snapped her back to the present. "…we'd got caught in a blizzard. That was as good a time to learn cold-weather survival as any, so Rodimus taught me. I've never had to put it into practice until now, though." He shifted his arms, unconsciously tightening his grip on Amelia. She thought, anyway. "I guess something about learning a lesson while dangling between life and death makes it stick better than others."

"Did you catch the bandits?"

"They died of their own folly. Oddly enough, both of the women managed to survive—half-buried under their bodies. One of them lost both her right hand and most of her foot to frostbite, though."

"Frostbite?" Amelia was suddenly hyperaware of the coldness in her fingers and toes. She knew she was overreacting but for a moment she could imagine her blood freezing, crystalizing and turning her extremities black and dead. She balled her fingers together and jammed them between her and Zelgadis's torsos without thinking, eliciting a small grunt of surprise from him.

"I'm sorry!" she apologized—but she couldn't bring herself to move her hands. "It's just…you're very warm. Aren't _you _cold at all?"

"Yes. But probably not as much as you. This body's as jealous of heat as it is of my blood…" He sounded a little bitter, like there was something more to that statement before he stopped. Jamming her fingers against his solar plexus she realized that his skin wasn't rock hard at all. There was a light give, like when you pressed down on the skin of a drum. A little gasp of surprise caught in her throat. "Your skin. It's not as…"

"_What?"_

Well, too late to take her foot back out of her mouth. She tried to keep her voice friendly and cheerful—and she sounded like a complete fool. "Well…rocky. As I thought."

She was an idiot. Of course it wasn't. She'd touched him before, after all, but she'd never been so close to him that she could feel his heartbeat. It seemed slower and deeper than hers—which was about as steady as a drunken bumblebee—and his heart out of sync with her own created a bizarre dizziness and disorientation if she focused on it too hard.

"Of course it's not." He didn't sound angry. Instead, his tone was an exasperated sigh, drawn out the same way that you wrung water from a wet towel. "If it was really rock, I wouldn't be able to breathe, much less move my arms or legs."

Amelia's fingers twitched. Her stomach dropped out of her body entirely, filling her with a weird giddiness—like the butterflies that inhabited her gut suddenly set loose throughout her whole body, leaving in their wake a mad boldness that she never would have been able to muster if not for the fact that at this moment, there were literally almost no barriers between them. She wriggled her arm around reached up, brushing the underside of his arm with her fingers.

"It's almost soft." She found herself looking up at him—or rather, she realized in embarrassment, his neck. This close she noticed stony shards armored his jawline and ran down the jugular veins, but his throat was smooth—and she couldn't help but wonder if it had the same texture as the skin on the inside of his elbow.

"Almost. Huh. It's not. Amelia, you couldn't cut me even if you pushed a razorblade into my throat." He growled, as if reading her mind. "Nearly nothing gets through it."

"I think it feels nice…" she ventured, scrambling for something to say.

The quality of his voice changed. The pitch rose by that tiny measure, a whisper of something guttural and wounded echoed somewhere in his timbre. "We've had this conversation before. Is it so hard to understand? Look at me! Not like the way you're used to, but the way you did when you first saw this face."

In a way, she was more curious than fearful of his anger—she'd never been _invited_ to stare so closely at his face before. Now she could, and in that exploration, with a coldness that bloomed in her guts, began to see his point.

It was easier with the candlelight, flickering dimly across his features. There was something off, something strange about his face in the dark, the way the shadows moved and shifted across his cheekbones and forehead, even around his eyes. It took her several heartbeats to realize the unsettling nature of the problem—his skin didn't reflect the light the way she was used to seeing it in other people. The texture of his flesh seemed to absorb it, and what wasn't absorbed bounced off the glittering scales on his face.

It should have been monstrous.

But it wasn't. Perhaps it was the way that his expression was tight, even a little angry, maybe the fierce focus and vulnerability and bright, furious emotion—the kind that she was sure Zelgadis didn't realize he betrayed whenever things got bad—that didn't match his teal-gray stony skin and scales.

"I don't think I do," Amelia said in frustration. "I understand that what happened to you was wrong and I wish you haven't had to suffer for it, but your body has saved you many times and it's because of you right now I'm not frozen to death. And—you're always going on about how you're a hideous monster, but I don't think that at all! You've…you've always looked human to me, Mr. Zelgadis," she said truthfully, helplessly. "You surprised me when I first saw you, but I never thought you looked like a monster or anything—"

"I don't know what's worse, you thinking that this all because I don't like what I look like—which I don't—or the fact that in order to get through to you, I seem to have no choice. Amelia," his voice wavered, his expression pained.

"I can't feel things anymore."

* * *

As soon as the words tumbled out of his mouth, he realized how ridiculous he sounded. It sounded almost as shallow as the appearance thing, so now he had to qualify. Wonderful.

She froze, stopped, confused.

"What?" her voice was small. "Not anything? How can that…?"

"I know, that sounds stupid and petty," he muttered bitterly. "It's not that I can't feel _anything_. But did you think I was joking when I said earlier that nothing gets past this skin? It doesn't just stop blades, or cold."

"Then what...I mean…"

"Impact. Vibration. Pressure. Things like that, mostly. I still get pain, but it's usually secondary. Not as acute as it would normally be, unless it's a serious wound. I think."

"You think?"

He stared at her, trying to come up with an articulated description for a pain he'd internalized a long time ago.

"That lullaby you sometimes hum to yourself on long walking days. The one you said your mother used to sing to you when you were a very small child—the one you said you can't remember the words to. You were doing it earlier this afternoon."

Amelia flinched in his arms. He continued. "You can't remember the words because you haven't heard them in a long time, but you still have the melody. The lingering impression of the song. You could call it the song itself, but it's not…complete."

For a few heartbeats, there was nothing but the cold snapping and flickering of the candle.

He's said way too much. What was it to anyone if he couldn't feel pain very well? How did you say that you wished you could feel uncomfortable amounts of cold or heat, or pain, instead of encased in living armor where literally everything bounced off and everything inside was stagnant, unmoving, lukewarm?

He'd never forget the first few days. It was like being sealed in thick leather. He'd been hyperventilating, gasping for air like a beached fish while he scrabbled like deranged rat at the rocky protrusions on his face, unable to feel the texture of his skin or figure out if they were embedded in his skin or some kind of bone or _what_, and he'd done that until he bled. Of course, he hadn't been able to tell he was bleeding—the moisture of his own blood was lost on him until he clapped a hand to his face so hard that it should have stung but it didn't. The impact had made a strange noise, like a _whump _instead of a _smack_, and his hand had come away sticky.

He remembered the feeling of watery relief that had come with discovering it was still red.

He remembered throwing up until there was nothing left. The grass, instead of leafy and cool, had become a ghostly, infuriating tickle. He'd grabbed sword by the blade, and the edge bit, but he might as well have gasped a butter knife. He remembered his throat was hurting, but he couldn't recall the screaming. Something deep inside his ears hurt like hell.

Even talking to other people had been bizarre and disorienting. He was used to sensing proximity in a person by touch—the way all people normally did, but now, it was as though he was behind a thick glass, but he could _hear_ so much clearer when they spoke. So clearly, in fact, that he could pick out little tiny pitch variations, vibrations, rumbles—so clearly that even the familiar timbres of Rezo, Rodimus, Zolf, even the children, had seemed garrulous and alien.

He couldn't remember what normal people heard anymore. He could just recall that it was a little less complicated.

For the first few nights, his sheets had caught in the shards on his back and forearms, shredded from the tossing and turning and more than anything, he remembered the words, reverberating in his head:

_I'm trapped. I'm trapped. I'm trapped!_

Then, with time, those feeling subsided. He began to forget what it had been like before. It hadn't mattered at that point, had it?

"Mr. Zelgadis…" her voice reached into the recesses of his memory and pulled him out. He had the sudden impression of a drowning man thrown a rope.

She reached up. Maybe he was too numb, too frazzled to consider what happened next, but it surprised him all the same. She pressed her small, cold palm against the plane of his face. He blinked. No one had done that since he changed.

"…not even this?"

Her touch was like that of a ghost. He knew her hand was there, but it was insubstantial, a whisper. In that second he wanted nothing more than to grab her hand and press it hard against his cheek, but he didn't. He didn't move.

"No." his voice barely seemed to squeeze itself out of his throat.

A slight crease appeared between Amelia's brows. She pushed a little harder, stroked her thumb just under his left eye. He closed them both, hating himself for even trying to relish this tiny moment, this mockery of an intimate, tender gesture. And on one level, a mockery it was—he could feel the pressure in her wrist as she pressed down, not hard, but not soft, either. But on another…

"And this?"

Zelgadis clenched his teeth. He couldn't answer her verbally. Instead, he breathed in deep, and softly, ran his hand along the dip of Amelia's waist, ghosting along the edge of her ribs to cup the side of her face, trying to imagine the texture of her skin by picturing rose petals in his mind's eye.

It didn't really work.

"Mr. Zelgadis." she was holding onto the wrist of the hand on her face, her voice quiet as butterfly wings. She stared up at him. Something was glimmering in her eyes. Embarrassment and fear made him want to interpret it as pity but Amelia didn't _pity_ the way most people would.

She grieved. She grieved fully and completely, and that shining grief and shock with which she regarded him made him feel as naked and exposed as she was. But in this moment, that didn't seem like a terrible thing.

She wrapped her arms around him as best she could, burying her face against his collarbone. On a normal occasion, he thought she might have tried to apologize—her way of communicating sympathy, but here, she surprised him by staying silent.

There was nothing to say.

He tried to return the gesture. Amelia might be naïve, and she spoke her mind without thinking, she was true as steel and he could at least be sure that she was doing her level best, for at least a heartbeat, to understand.

It was one of those things that filled him with endless confusion. Her understanding, her ability to feel and empathize any situation to a degree that he couldn't even begin to comprehend, and while it was confusing, it was fascinating. It drew his eye when she wasn't looking, it made him wonder and mull things over in his head. But naturally, in looking, it stirred things in him he tried to regard as distractions—he had a goal, and that goal had to come first.

But even so…she shifted against him, tightening her grip around his shoulders. She glanced up at caught his eye, and he found that right now he may not be able to sense the exact texture of her skin, but he could feel the humming of her heart, and the insistent pressure of her full breasts crushed against his body. Those things were slowly turning his brain to soup, and there was a dim voice yelling at him as is from a great distance…

_Zel!_

_Amelia!_

Amelia? Someone was—

Wait. There was a thumping nose from above, and then suddenly, a triumphant shout.

Surely not.

Oh.

"_Aha! Found 'em. Fireball!"_

The top of the shelter blew up.

It erupted with a spectacular roar of red flame flying, fist-sized chunks of packed snow and the burning remains of emergency supplies. He was pretty sure he screamed—there was no time for any other reaction.

He and Amelia hadn't moved. They were lying in a blasted crater, and while Amelia's still wet clothes (and his shirt) rained damningly down around them, wrapped up in Zelgadis' cloak and holding each in terrified death grips they were literally too tangled up to move.

As Lina's silhouette moved through the rapidly dissipating vapor towards them, the only thing Zelgadis had time to consider is which burning piece of equipment he might use to kill himself the fastest with.

"Ha! Well that wasn't so bad. Told you we'd find them fast! Amelia, Zel, how—"

She stopped dead, having stepped on something. She glanced down.

Amelia's underwear, stiff with ice, crunched lightly beneath her boot. Even from this distance, on the ground, Zelgadis could see every evil inch of her expression. First, amber eyes, widening in shock. Then, the piercing shriek, half-mortification, half wicked glee,

"_WHAT THE HELL IS THIS? AHAHAHAHAHA!"_

"Wait, Lina!" Zelgadis's voice cracked. "This—this isn't what it looks like!"

Sylphiel and Gourry appeared seconds later.

Sylphiel gasped, pink flooding her cheeks. "Oh my."

"What did I miss? Gah, Sylphiel, what are you doing?"

"We probably probably shouldn't see this, Gourry, dear."

"No everyone, there's a perfectly good explanation for this!" Amelia squeaked. Zelgadis cringed at the word "everyone". Oh God. "Please, Ms. Lina, put those down!"

"Zel, you sly devil." There were very few things that put the fear of hell into Zelgadis. One such thing was Ruby-Eyed Shabranigdo. The other such thing was the cruel, catlike grin that curled across Lina's face, a smile that spoke of unspeakable horror and eyes that promised one thing:

_I'm going to milk this for all it's worth._

* * *

Lina later described the inside of the inn like a fresh chicken and vegetable pie—warm, full and smelling of spices. Every lamp, chandelier and candelabra had been lit regardless of whether or not it was needed, filling the room with a thick, comfortable warmth that brought to mind woolen blankets mugs of tea. Each of the tables had been shined and dusted till they gleamed, and each table was occupied to full capacity with roaring, celebrating townsfolk waving tankards of nutty beer.

"And then the vile creature attacked, with no thought to the doom that awaited him—he could not conceive of the might of the hammer of justice that struck him down…!"

Amelia was balanced on a table close to the hearth, belting out the story of the monster's defeat with the voice and skill of a professional herald. Even then, she was barely audible over the din of cheering townspeople and the clang of pots and pans from the busy kitchen.

Gourry and Sylphiel were sitting close to Amelia, cheering her on and adding in details where they felt necessary. In the back…a wry smirk tugged at Zelgadis' lips. Lina was gesticulating widely with her abacus and pointing expectantly at the hungry-looking purse looming on the table where the three councilmen who hired them cringed and counted stacks of gold coins.

She'd been particularly…well, 'energetic' was probably the kindest word, but 'crazy' was the one that came to Zelgadis' mind first. The day after the snow cave incident, Lina had tromped everyone out to the river looking for the treasure. She'd coerced Zelgadis into going in with her (Amelia point blank refused to go anywhere near the bank and it wasn't as if Gourry or Sylphiel would be of any help with regards to the actual search), each employing a Windy Shield to walk along the bottom of the river for several miles at a time, looking for the treasure. That was bad enough on its own, but in the end, they had found something.

Which was almost worse.

It was a massive, likely looking, waterlogged old chest with a grimy golden lock. When they hauled it to the surface, blasted the lock off, there was only one thing inside—a note, sealed in a waterproof envelope.

"_Early bird gets the worm! Better luck next time, flatty!_

_Ohohohohohoho!"_

It had been signed with a crude drawing of a snake. Zelgadis had no idea who was tacky or ridiculous enough to actually write out the onomatopoeia for an obnoxious laugh, but apparently, Lina had. The second Amelia had finished reading the note out loud she'd roared like a dragon and set it on fire before stomping the ashes into the snow.

In any case, she was probably demanding the councilmen reimburse her for the treasure or something.

Although, the red headed usurer had apparently been appeased. Like a cat who'd eaten the canary, she stalked over to where he was sitting, feline smirk taking up more of her face than he would have initially thought possible. She sat down next to Zelgadis with a satisfied little noise and jangled the purse. It gave the impression of a bloated frog—it was too stuffed to actually make much noise—before stowing it inside her cloak.

"I got them to reimburse me for the treasure."

Zelgadis took a sip of his tea. "Congratulations, Lina. You can now add 'master extortionist' to your colorful list of epithets."

"I prefer the term 'successful businesswoman'." She winked at him, "I thought about writing a detailed account of what happened last night to Prince Phil and threatening to send it to him."

"You wouldn't!"

Lina sighed and waved her hand nonchalantly at him. "I kid, I kid. Besides Zel," she grinned, "You haven't got any stuff I want."

He snorted.

"Come on," her playful tone changed slightly, turning genuine and serious as it was light. "No one really thinks anything happened. Everyone knows that's how you deal with someone who's fallen through ice. Even if Prince Phil ever does find out, I honestly can't see him caring too much. Still," a knowing, goofy grin returned to her face, revealing her elongated eyeteeth. "Best way to rescue a pretty girl ever, huh?"

Zelgadis leaned forward with a throaty sigh, kneading his forehead to hide his spreading blush. "Look, if you want to say something, say it. You didn't come all the way over here just to tease me, did you?"

Lina clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You make to too easy! Loosen up a little. But you're right, I do have a point." She raised a finger, smile gone. "Just…be careful. I know she's not a little kid or anything, but parts of her kind of are. I don't think it'll take much to break her heart. And you're, well, you. And don't look at me like that; you know I'm not talking about your face."

"'Be careful with her.'"

"Yeah."

"It's not like that."

Lina made an exasperated noise. "Is that really how you're going to be?"

Zelgadis pointedly flicked his eyes in Gourry's direction. "You're not one to talk. Just what are you implying?"

Lina sighed, cracked her knuckles and shrugged. "Okay Zelgadis. If you have to ask, you already know. So with that in mind," she stood up, "take care of her. You can't exactly return what she's given you."

At this Zelgadis got to his feet, bristling. "Now look—"

"Her heart, you idiot, her heart," Lina said, waving him down. "Jeez, what did you think I meant? You men have such dirty minds."

Frazzled, Zelgadis sat back down. "She's my friend, same as you and Gourry," he grumbled. "I do my duty by my friends. If you're so worried about her, then go talk to her about it."

"Zel." Lina met his eye before turning away, a small knowing smile on her lips. "I'm not telling you this stuff just for her sake." She gave a small wave before heading off to a table.

Zelgadis sighed, turning back towards the commotion at the head table. Amelia was finishing up her story. She launched into a graceful aerial maneuver off the table. At the highest point of her arc, she caught his gaze. Her eyes lit up and she flashed him a brilliant smile, just as she landed neatly on the ground.

As much as he wanted to, it was at that point he knew that he couldn't entirely write off Lina's words. Something had changed, and it would never be quite the same again. Even if he wasn't sure if he was prepared for it.

_I don't know what I'm doing_.

He went outside and threw out the remainder of his cold tea.

* * *

Amelia noticed Zelgadis slip out the door when she finished her bow. He was doing it again! She excused herself as politely as she could from the clamoring crowd before heading over and grabbing two new mugs of tea.

She shouldered her way out the door, into the frigid night, careful not the spill. Zelgadis was leaning against the side of the door, looking up at the sky, but he'd heard her approach. She smiled and offered the mug in her left—no, right hand—to him. He accepted it with a shy little smile of his own. Something warmed in her heart. That was one of her rarer ones.

"What are you doing out here, Amelia? It's cold." His breath misted in a silver curl.

She shrugged. "It's not so bad with all your clothes on." His throat snagged mid-sip of tea, but he didn't say anything.

Actually, thinking back to what had happened, she wasn't so sure it had been so bad with her clothes off, either. Retrospectively, at least.

Already, she could feel the freezing air numbing her face. Absentmindedly, she touched her cheek. Even now it felt strangely fuzzy and distant. She looked at the door. She could go back inside anytime, and she'd be able to feel her face again, the cold would melt away. Zelgadis couldn't do that. He might never do that. A numbness and coldness went hand in hand, and surely that had affected his heart as much as his body in some way.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew," she blurted, gripping the warm mug like it was trying to escape, "What you told me yesterday. It's not petty. It's always the things we take for granted that we miss the most. It's always those little things that remind us what it is to be human."

Suddenly, the nameless lullaby, the impression of a song that was always reverberating around in the corners of her mind started to play in her head, soft, sad, reminding. Impulsively, she reached out for Zelgadis' hand, gripping, more firmly than she would anyone else, but warmly.

He blinked at her in surprise. She met his eyes, smiled.

"I won't ever let you forget them!"

* * *

_The End_

* * *

**A/N: **When this idea first came to me, it was very simple in my mind. That was partially because I didn't know anything about winter survival beyond cliches, so when I got down to doing research for this thing, I was like, "...oh. This will probably make the characters a little more uncomfortable than I previously imagined. Hmmm. Wait, you have to _what_ if someone falls through ice?" In any case, I was a little more embarrassed than I thought I would be, since this sort of thing is actually quite far from my comfort zone. In any case, I did have fun writing it, and I hope you all enjoyed reading it. Until next time! ^_^


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